Jack Du Brul - River of Ruin

Huai seized on the general’s desperation. “Maybe. Or maybe let him go and he is right now making arrangements to return to China.”

In truth, Liu was unconscious in a cabin, shackled to the plumbing behind a toilet. Huai wasn’t sure yet if he would tell anyone or let him drown as the Korvald continued to fill with water from the holes in her hull. In just the few minutes since he’d burst into the cabin to find Yu hiding from the helicopter gunship, Huai could feel the deck was tilting more.

“You let him go!” Yu thundered.

Huai readjusted his pistol to remind the general who was in charge. “Who decided that Liu was our enemy?”

“Your government.”

“So my government denounced him as a traitor and yet they let a dozen of my men die working with him just to make a political statement about his treason. I see that as a greater violation than whatever Liu did.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” Yu scoffed, his lip twisting with derision. He’d been pushed as far as he’d go. “Are you going to shoot me? Then you’d have to shoot the captain here and everyone else on this ship to keep them from killing you.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” Huai said calmly. “That is the kind of sacrifice a soldier is willing to make for his men. I don’t mind dying to kill you. You’ve betrayed my men, you’ve betrayed me and you’ve betrayed the People’s Liberation Army.” He raised his pistol. “For the crime of treason against his troops, General Yu Kwan, I sentence you to death.”

The shot rang out, crisp and sharp.

Sergeant Huai staggered back a step, his left hand reaching for his chest where blood oozed from the wound. Mr. Sun had watched the whole exchange from a hiding place in the adjoining bathroom. He’d enjoyed the play of emotion between the combat soldier and the political one, feeding off their fear and hatred. But he knew where his loyalties lay and judged precisely when the sergeant would shoot. He’d fired his own pistol an instant before Huai and was pleased the bullet had hit within a few inches of where he’d aimed. He’d never been good with guns.

The second shot had been delayed by a fraction of a second. The aim was perfect. The bullet had been fired even as Huai absorbed a shot to the chest and still blew most of General Yu’s brains out the back of his head. The gore exploded against the cabin wall and oozed like slime to the floor.

Mercer watched as the two fell to the deck. He didn’t have the proper angle to see if the civilian had used a hidden gun to kill the soldier, but it stood to reason that anyone involved in this plot would be armed. All he was sure of was that this incident had nothing to do with him. His fight was with Sun, not the Chinese Army and its civilian controllers. The ship’s captain walked over the soldier’s body to close and lock the cabin door.

Mercer lifted himself from where he’d hidden behind a cabinet. He put out of his mind what he’d just seen and continued his hunt for Sun, guessing that he would be cowering as far from the bridge as he could. He moved down the hallway, checking cabins. Most were unlocked and took just a moment to examine. Those doors that were locked he kicked in as quietly as he could, although the cacophony from outside and the alarms screaming on the bridge effectively masked any noise he made.

Each time he returned to the hall, he eyed the captain’s cabin to make sure no one had emerged. Reaching the last door, he felt the handle. It was locked. He kicked once and the puny lock shattered. He had the M-16 ready and swept the cabin in one movement. No one. He moved to check the bathroom. There was a body chained to the toilet.

What the hell? The bathroom was tiny so he shouldered the M-16 and pulled the.45. He called out softly. No response. He approached slowly and tapped the body with his foot. The man was facedown and didn’t move. A briefcase was handcuffed to his wrist. He kicked again, angling so he could roll the man over. He recognized Liu Yousheng immediately and had to fight not to pull the trigger.

“Well, well, well.” He looked closer. A livid purple bruise covered half of Liu’s face. Mercer touched his cheek. The skin was cold and waxy. He was dead. Whoever had clocked him had hit a little too hard and caused bleeding on the brain. “Good.”

The ship creaked as she listed farther into the capsized Englander Rose . Mercer glanced over his shoulder to make sure the cabin door was clear, then bent to shoot away the handcuff on Liu’s wrist. He assumed whatever was in the briefcase would prove valuable.

Mr. Sun had seen the American enter the last cabin when he went in search of a means to escape. Encouraged by his earlier shot, he decided to do away with Mercer himself. It was fitting that the only man to escape before the acupuncture needles could break him was just a few feet away and unaware he was being hunted.

He moved down the hall with ghostlike steps. Reaching the cabin he lowered himself to peer in, his old knees popping. Mercer was in the bathroom, bent over what Sun believed to be the body of Liu Yousheng. He’d seen so much death he could recognize it at any distance.

The range was shorter than the shot he’d just taken, but Sun took his time bringing up the heavy pistol. Mercer’s back was still to him. The pip on the front sight came level with the V notch of the rear sight. A round was in the chamber and the trigger started coming back. Sun’s hand trembled. He eased off the trigger, took a breath that rattled in his stringy lungs and refocused his aim.

This time he had his man.

Some sixth sense made Mercer turn at the last instant. He saw Sun crouched at the cabin door, an automatic in his hand. Mercer’s weapon was down by his side. He was fast, but not that fast.

Sun had time to smile.

And then he screamed as a gleaming shaft of tempered steel sprang from his chest and pinned him to the deck. A gush of arterial blood spilled from his mouth; his eyes went wide and lifeless. The blade was withdrawn and Harry stepped into the cabin. The top two feet of his sword were covered in crimson.

“That’s three you owe now.” He reached down and un-snapped the watch on Sun’s skeletal wrist. “TAG Heuer. H’mm. Looks like yours.” He tossed it to Mercer. “I think this proves that whatever this prick took from you is yours to take back.”

Mercer looked at the watch and at his friend, stunned, grateful, overwhelmed. He could barely speak. “Harry, I’m going to tell you something that if you repeat I will deny until the day I die.”

“I’ve known all along.” Harry’s voice was thick as his sudden bravado failed him. His eyes filled. “And I love you too, boy.”

With everyone up at the volcanic lake, Mercer and Miguel were left alone to walk along the banks of the River of Ruin. The remnants of Gary Barber’s camp looked much as they had a few weeks earlier. A couple more animal tracks maybe, and some new growth of jungle amid the ripped tents and scattered equipment, were the only verifiable differences. Yet there was something that man and boy both felt as they ambled in silence.

The ghosts were gone.

The spirits of Gary and his staff, including Miguel’s parents, had been put to rest by the sacrifices everyone had made since that first day when Mercer discovered the bodies. There was no need to talk about it. It was as obvious as the heat and humidity in the tight little valley.

“Will you be happy with Roddy and Carmen?” Mercer asked when they found a comfortable place to sit along the river’s edge.

“I think so,” Miguel answered honestly. “They are very kind and I like their children.”

“What about school? Are you excited to go?”